Survival
by Anonymous033
Summary: Ziva struggles to come to terms with her cancer, and on the day after her surgery her friends drop by to try and help her cope. Rated T for difficult topics.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: Ziva struggles to come to terms with her cancer, and on the day after her surgery her friends drop by to try and help her cope.**

**Disclaimer: I shall sneak my little minions in to steal all official papers for NCIS...oh, I don't have little minions? :(**

**Time setting: [SPOILERS] This takes place at the beginning of the hypothetical Season 10; Ziva is no longer with Ray, and Jimmy Palmer has married Breena. Obviously, it's only in canon up till this week's episode; I have no powers of foresight and cannot predict how things will actually end up on the show.**

**A/N: [CONTAINS SCIENCE CONTENT]**

**I don't know why I wanted to write this fic. Haha. I just did, to see how Ziva would react under circumstances like this. She's used to harm and injury that comes in the context of fights, missions, or explosives; but cancer is a different story. Having said that, I don't have cancer and don't personally know anyone who does, so please forgive me if I write anything that seems...contrary to reality. I promise you that my intention is not to offend. :)**

**This story is divided into six chapters; apart from the first and last chapter (which are both T/Z chapters), they all contain different characters. Breena Palmer makes a special appearance! Jimmy Palmer and Timmy McGee do not have their individual scenes with Ziva, though :( I tried to fit them in, but too many individual scenes just doesn't make sense.**

**Okay, in order for this story to seem coherent, a little background is probably needed (and this is where the science content starts AND I start talking about the female reproductive system so...little kids, look away!). Ziva has _stage I dysgerminoma_, which is a type of ovarian germ cell tumour. This sort of tumour begins in the egg cells of the ovary. Ziva's treatment is _unilateral salpingo-oophorectomy with adjuvant chemotherapy_, in which her right ovary and fallopian tube were removed. Her chemotherapy treatment begins after the operation and is not directly addressed in this fic.**

**Prior to the operation, she had told only Tony about the cancer because of his insistence to know what was bothering her, and Gibbs because of the request for medical leave. This fic is written under the assumption that Tony has been her primary (and almost exclusive) source of social support since then; because of this, they're somewhat emotionally closer than they currently are on the show. But because Tony's not the best at dealing with emotional issues, Ziva also has a lot of thoughts and worries that will be listened to and assuaged by the other characters in the story.**

****If I _do _offend with this fic, please tell me via PM! I will try to rectify my mistakes as best I can.****

**Information on ovarian cancer was gotten from: The Web site of the National Cancer Institute (www . cancer . gov)**

**The first chapter contains no specific spoilers to any season.**

**Okay, I'm done rambling. Read on, enjoy, and please review!**

**-_Soph_**

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><p><strong>Survival<strong>

The first image she sees when her darkened vision clears and her head stops spinning – sort of – is that of Tony, with his face nuzzled so very close to her arm and his hand wrapped possessively around hers. He appears to be asleep. She frowns for a moment because yes, she'd allowed him to be there before the operation and after, but he has no right to touch her like that. It makes her heart do strange things, and she's not sure that she's up for it in her current weak state.

And yet…and yet, she's glad he's there. She can't say why; she just knows that there's a warm feeling spreading across her chest which probably has nothing to do with painkillers. She's glad he's there. She feels safe and comforted and most importantly _loved_, because whatever complexities they have between them, he still loves her enough to just be there, holding her hand. She knows it's not sympathy or pity. At least, she hopes it isn't, because then it would not last past the chemotherapy. And she needs him to be there for that too.

She wonders if he hears her racing heart, because he stirs; turns his head slightly as if to find a better position in which to go back to sleep, and then sits up so abruptly that his back pops. He winces and pops his neck. Hospital beds, after all, are not made conducive for bedside visitors to rest their heads on. His eyes fly to hers and his grip tightens inexplicably when he finds her awake. "Are you okay?" he asks in a strangled voice, and she wants to headslap him because _would she be alive if she weren't?_

She resists the urge. She knows he's worried; has been worrying since the day he made her tell him. Since the day she chose to tell him. Who is she kidding? Deep, deep down, she just really needs him to be there.

She nods, and his eyes grow tighter and even more worried until she rasps out, "Thanks…for being here, Tony."

Relief dawns on him and his grip loosens the slightest bit. "Thought you couldn't speak," he says, and then chuckles at how ridiculous it sounds.

"They didn't operate on my brain."

"I know." His eyes flick down to her lower half. She feels humiliation and anger bubbling in her until his thumb strokes her skin gently, reassuring her that he hadn't meant it; hadn't meant that unintentional glance. And oh yes, she knows it's perfectly normal for people to want to glance. Is it not perfectly normal for her to hate the possibility of it? She has scars and bruises aplenty. She's just never had a part of herself missing before.

"It's out?" he asks sombrely, as if _he _were the one with a part missing. And that's what kills her, because maybe she's never been the perfect woman for him, but she's so far from perfect now that she knows she will just spend the rest of her life wondering if they could've been.

"Yes," she answers, and that's when a tear rolls down her cheek. Suddenly she doesn't want him there anymore; not if he has to force himself to stay. He doesn't deserve this; not the chemo, not whatever side effects there will be, not whatever insecurities or self-hate or _problems _that she will have. No one deserves it. That's why she'd wanted to do this alone; live or die alone, without anyone knowing or caring. Why did he have to make her tell him? _Why did he?_

He reaches over and brushes away her tear with his free hand, oh so gently, and her bottom lip trembles against her will. And because he's already seen her cry more times in the past few weeks than she cares to know, he simply drops his thumb to run it along her lip, as if that motion might soothe her.

And maybe it does, because it's _his _thumb, _his _taste, _his _smell. Her lip stills eventually and the tears that beyond the first drop, never left her eyes, are blinked back into nonexistence. He rests his hand atop the pillow as she takes a deep breath, and she turns her head to press her face against him because she still needs it – his skin, his scent. Her eyes meet his; silently pleading that he doesn't draw away and silently challenging him to fulfil her expectations and pull away, at the same time. His eyes glitter for a moment with a promise to rise to the challenge, but he blinks wearily and the promise is gone, and all that's left is an affirmative answer to the plea. The hand that's still holding hers resumes its stroking patterns. She almost cries again before she succumbs to sleep with the memory of the tingles she feels on the back of her hand.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Oh, I forgot to mention two things in my previous, ridiculously long A/N - 1. Ziva isn't dying. Yes, she has cancer, but most of it has been removed through surgery and the rest will be eradicated through chemotherapy. At present, the biggest risk is that of her relapse rather than her death. 2. Um...this story has no real plot...lol. I mean, it progresses throughout the course of a day, but the focus is on the emotional interaction between Ziva and her friends/team mates rather than her physical recovery. So we won't be seeing her go through chemo. :)**

**I don't know how this affects your willingness to read the story, but I do hope you like it. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, favourited, and put out alerts for the first chapter! Big hugs and a box of chocolate for each and every one of you :D**

**This chapter is Gibbs/Ziva friendship...there are no major spoilers to any season.**

**Enjoy, please review!**

**-_Soph_**

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><p>It's daylight the next time she wakes up, and Tony is gone but Gibbs sits in his place. She feels lost for a moment because even though she told Gibbs about the cancer – she wouldn't have been able to get leave for the operation otherwise – it has always been Tony by her side. Not that Gibbs doesn't care about her wellbeing, but the oddly fierce look in her Italian partner's eyes at anyone else's interference seems to have convinced Gibbs to let the senior field agent be the one to take care of her.<p>

_Take care of her. _Since when had she needed taking care of?

"Ziver," Gibbs calls softly to her, and she turns her eyes away from the blinding glare of the sunlight towards him.

"Gibbs," she whispers with a small smile. She wants to continue with, _thank you for coming to visit, _but he shakes his head slightly. It's more of a twitch than a proper shake, but she gets his meaning anyway – _no formalities needed. _So she changes topic. "How are things at work?"

He grimaces. "Ahh, I had to tell Abby." _Of course he did._ "She wondered. You took four days off work."

"I took three."

"I made it four." _Of course he did._ Gibbs, always just like an overprotective father. She feels annoyance growing in her heart over that fact at the same time that a smile grows on the corners of her mouth because that simple gesture moves her. She's never had an overprotective father. It's quite nice to have one now.

"Tony's gettin' some food and rest. I sent him home," Gibbs says shrewdly, and her eyes snap up to his. She wonders if he knows how much she misses Tony.

He lifts one shoulder and drops it. "Brought Abby with me. Couldn't have convinced him to leave your side otherwise. Abby did whatever she does and got him to go home for three hours."

She almost laughs at that, and for the first time since her diagnosis she feels normal. Like she had never left the office, never left the people she works with, never distanced herself from the people she loves.

"She's coming after she sends him back. Got a big bouquet of black roses waiting for her at the florist's shop, ready to brighten this room up." He looks around the plain room with his nose scrunched, as if he thinks the roses might make a reasonable improvement to it. She agrees.

"That is nice of Abby."

Gibbs gives a brisk nod and changes topic again. "McGee knows too. Ducky and Palmer. Thought you might wanna be prepared if they drop by."

"You…told them?" Her heart suddenly feels like stone, because overprotective she may be able to handle but presumptuous she cannot.

"No. Abby did."

She closes her eyes and focuses on steadying her breathing. She loves Abby on a good day, but right now…"I didn't want them to know."

"I know."

She opens her eyes and glares at him. _He _was the one who had told Abby, after all. "Do you?"

Gibbs sighs and pulls his chair closer, resting a warm hand on her forehead. "They're your family too, Ziver."

"I don't _need _people to know that I have this…this…"

"You don't have it anymore."

"What?"

"They cut it out."

"They cut a part of me out!"

"Yeah, if a part of you is cancer cells. You got a bad thought in your head, you put it out, no questions about whether it's you or not. Same thing here, Ziva. You want to live, you cut it out. You're still you; just alive."

She comes to the realization that she feels wetness on her face again; that she's crying, _again_. She brushes at the tears angrily, suddenly desperate for Tony's presence. She's really starting to suspect that excessive emotionality is part of her condition.

Gibbs strokes her hair softly.

"You're still you, Ziver. They're your family. They want to see you."


	3. Chapter 3

**Longest chapter in the story! HAH, yes, not a Tiva chapter. I impress myself.**

**Pairing: Abby/Ziva friendship**

**Spoilers: Minor references from Judgment Day parts 1 and 2, Rivkin arc, Ray arc, Swan Song, Kill Ari parts 1 and 2, 9x05 "Safe Harbor". Basically, everything Ziva.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter! I asked my muses if they would like to share their heart-shaped candy with you, and...they said "no", so I went behind their backs and bought extra-large boxes for all of you.**

**Enjoy!**

**-_Soph_**

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><p>She is propped up in bed, listening to Gibbs bring her up to date on work and her co-workers' various antics, when Abby arrives. She feels calmer than she has in a long time; Gibbs has a way of doing that. A man of many conflicting thoughts and emotions himself, he has a way of bringing serenity into the middle of chaos.<p>

They both turn towards the door and watch as it clicks open silently, Abby tottering in as quietly as she can with a bouquet of roses that she can't see past. The scientist sneaks the bouquet across the room and places it gently onto the bedside table, only to turn and shriek when she realizes Ziva is awake. She has Ziva wrapped tenderly in her arms in the same instant. "You're awake," she whispers, and Ziva thinks she hears a suppressed sob.

It drives her to lift up her tired arm and rub Abby's back comfortingly. Abby, in all her colours, is rarely ever sad; she's often excited, happy, nervous, jealous, or even angry, but not sad. It takes a lot for Abby to be sad, and Ziva hates that she's the one who's caused that to happen. And yes, Tony has told her again and again that the cancer is not her fault.

So what?

Abby speaks up beside her. "I was so worried…Gibbs didn't tell me until yesterday…and _you _didn't tell me, and Tony…how could you guys have lied to me? How could I not have found out? I should've searched hospital records; don't know why I didn't think of it. I thought you might've told me if this was something big and you didn't tell me!"

"Abs," Gibbs interrupts. Abby turns her head to look at him and he vacates his seat, patting it. "Sit. I'm gonna get some coffee."

Abby nods reluctantly and lets go of Ziva, stepping around the bed to sink down into the chair. She waits until Gibbs leaves the room before glaring at Ziva. "Why _didn't _you tell me?"

Ziva sighs inwardly. Abby's anger, too, is as normal as Tony's worry. But how can she possibly answer the question? Why didn't she want to tell any of them? Why is she still regretting having told Tony and Gibbs? Because each time she looks at Tony, she sees a few more wrinkles on his forehead and a few less laughter lines around his eyes. Because he's had to hold her so many times that she wonders if she's permanently imprinted onto him, and she's caught him following her around like a frightened puppy so often that she'll forever be looking over her shoulder for him. Because Gibbs, even with his steady logic and his tough love and his sense of normalcy, looks a little older than before she told him. Why didn't she tell them? Because she needs them to stay the same when she can't, and they won't be able to stay the same once they know.

"Because I didn't want you to worry," she finally says, and gives a smile that she hopes forbids future questions. She doesn't know how to answer to Abby; she really doesn't. She doesn't know if she was right or wrong in not telling Abby, but she _can't_; not the happy goth. Not the one who sleeps in a coffin and names all her machines. Not the one whose bag wears a pink ribbon because it's a spot of brightness in an otherwise dark world. That's Abby – she's the glorious rainbow in their black, white, and grey world. She's the rainbow that Ziva doesn't want to wash away; doesn't want to fill with storm clouds and mark with raindrops.

How could she have told Abby?

"I was worried anyway; you've been so mysterious these few weeks. Always disappearing at weird times, and you're always looking so sad…McGee and I wondered, Ziva. We wanted to help you. You could've let us help you."

Ziva recoils at the sting of that. "I don't need help."

"Yes, you do! When are you going to realize, Ziva, that sometimes it's better when other people are there?"

"How? How is it better when I see everyone around me, looking sad and _pitying _me? How is it better when Tony doesn't smile anymore and you, you come in and hug me like you had thought I was dead?"

It's Abby's turn to recoil. "I hugged you like I'd thought you were dead only because I was glad you were alive." Ziva falls silent. "I _am_ glad you _are _alive. I wouldn't even have gotten to hug you at all if you were not. You think I want that, Ziva? I'd rather cry over you while you're here to see it! And I mean how can you think that we would pity you? You think this – you think me and Tony and Gibbs – this is pity? You think Tony stayed overnight here and practically had to be dragged away by me this morning because of _pity_? Stop pitying yourself and realize that we're here because we love you! We're not sad because of the cancer; we're sad because _you _aren't happy anymore!"

"How am I supposed to be happy, Abby? I have cancer. And yes, I know I'm not dying but I have weeks of chemotherapy after this and I will have to keep coming back to make sure I that stay in remission…nothing in my life will ever be the same again. And it's not just some _cells _that they cut out of my body. That was a part of me, Abby. That was part of me! A-and what if I want to marry? Have children? What am I supposed to tell my husband? That I'm a cancer survivor? That I may relapse, that I may have fertility problems? Can't you see how this changes everything for me?"

"It only changes if you want it to, Ziva."

"I can't make myself un-cancerous, Abby, I-"

"_You're _not cancerous, and you never were. The cells were cancerous. And that's not what I meant. You've survived so much. That summer in the desert – the summer before that. Jenny and Franks and Rivkin and that stupid Ray and God only knows what you survived before you came to NCIS. You really want to be brought down by cancer? This is you, Ziva! You're gonna mope around for the rest of your life because of this?"

"No." The quietness of the word makes them both blink, but there isn't much else that Ziva can say. Abby's right.

Ziva was always a fighter, in both the literal and poetic sense. Images from her childhood flashes before her, from the first time she had picked a fight to protect herself, to the last fight she had picked to protect her sister. She'd survived Tali's death, and her mother's. She'd survived hours of studying and training and desert and blood and torture and Ari and Eli and bombs. There were the small things, like the time she had fallen down and taken a chunk out of her knee, and refused to tell her parents because she was afraid of being punished. She'd gone into the bathroom and washed her wound and daubed it with antiseptic, all on her own. She remembers being so proud of herself.

And then there are the big things. Like cancer.

She wonders when she stopped being a fighter. All she does now is follow doctors' orders, accepting the diagnosis they've given her and getting the operation they tell her she needs, not because she wants to live but because she doesn't want to die. And yeah, she gets a second opinion and reads up on treatment alternatives because that's the right thing to do…but she's no longer sure if she ever wanted to do it. If she ever planned her life beyond this operation, this round of chemo, this painful misery – because somewhere along the way, she'd convinced herself that her life stops here.

Does it? She isn't sure anymore.

And where is that little girl with the antiseptic?

Her eyes meet Abby's exhaustedly. "No," she repeats, because she doesn't know what else to say. She must fight. Because she's always been a fighter; because she has to fight, right now.

Abby stands up and puts her arms around Ziva again. "The one thing I've always admired the most in you, Ziva, is not that you can kick butt. It's that you want to, for the right reasons. And you're so good at it. You save the world. But you've to save yourself now, okay? Promise. Promise you'll – you'll smile."

Ziva clears her throat to keep the shakiness out of it. "Can I promise that I will try?"

"Yeah. Just as long as you put in the effort. We want you to be happy again, Ziva. We all do."


	4. Chapter 4

**Breena makes her contribution today :D and go easy on her; as far as this story goes, she's spoken to Ziva and most members of Team Gibbs only a few times.**

**Pairing: Breena/Ziva semi(demi)-canon friendship. Assume Palmer told her about the cancer.**

**Spoilers: None, unless you don't know who Breena is.**

**Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, favourited, and set out alerts for the previous chapter! I really am blown away :O**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please review!**

**-_Soph_**

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><p>The door opens thirty minutes before Tony is due back, and she sees Gibbs's eyes narrow as he turns to it, ready to unleash headslaps for disobeyed orders. It's sufficed to say that all three occupants of the room – Abby, Gibbs, and herself – are surprised when Breena Palmer walks in instead.<p>

They track her progress as she smiles very self-consciously and inches forward to park herself at the foot of the bed, looking as if she's trying to make herself invisible.

Gibbs taps Abby on the shoulder and tilts his head at the door. "We gotta get back to work, Ziver." He presses a kiss to Ziva's temple. "See you later."

Abby adds in another hug and another "Smile!" before she speed-walks after Gibbs. And Ziva does smile, because no one could ever refuse Abby that.

Breena, now the only visitor left, moves to sit in the newly empty chair. "Hey, Ziva," she says nervously, and Ziva is startled to find that there isn't a single trace of pity in Breena's eyes. Maybe Abby's right, after all.

Ziva's lips curl upwards to smile of their own accord. Palmer's wife has always been a nice woman. "Hello. How've you been, Breena?"

Breena cheers up at the prospect of someone else taking over the conversation. "Not bad. Jimmy and I got a new house the other day; we're redoing the kitchen a faded yellow. Did he tell you about it?"

Ziva chuckles. "No. I haven't…you know, spoken to them a lot lately."

Breena nods seriously. "I get it. Hospital visits."

"Yes. And…sometimes, I just do not feel like talking."

"It was that way with my cousin. She…had ovarian cancer too."

Ziva's breath catches, because this is the first time it's occurred to her that she's not the only woman with ovarian cancer. It's one thing to know the statistics; another to find an emotional connection. Breena may not know exactly what she's going through, but at least…at least there's someone. "Really?"

"Mmhmm. She was diagnosed four years ago…she's in remission now, but they're still monitoring her. She relapsed a year after the first time…it was scary."

"Oh." She holds back the shudder that threatens to run through her. "How much did they…cut out?"

"Well, they cut out her left side at first, but when she relapsed they removed all of it…cause it was dangerous. It might spread to her uterus. She had Stage III cancer."

"Oh…" Another shudder. "I'm sorry."

"She's not, though." Breena smiles faintly. "I mean she isn't happy about her cancer, of course, but now she says she doesn't have to worry about birth control."

"It is a pretty effective method of birth control," Ziva answers, more for the sake of making conversation than for agreeing. Because she doesn't agree, she can't agree; she still wants children.

Breena nods slowly. "How much of yours…did they remove?"

"Just the right side." Breena's eyes flick down in the same way that Tony's had, but when she looks at Ziva again, she has an understanding smile on her face.

"You can still have kids."

"Yes…technically."

"Technically?"

"Practically, I do not know if it gets any harder…I get fewer chances, yes? It might take longer for me. And if I relapse in the meantime…Abby's right, I need to move on and start incorporating this part into myself. But…it is still hard."

"Yeah." Breena shifts uncomfortably in her seat. "Uhm. I'm probably gonna end up telling you that my cousin faced this and my cousin faced that, and I don't wanna do that 'cause I don't really know that much. But I brought her number along, you know…in case you want it. If you want someone to talk to."

Ziva forces herself to smile. "Thank you."

Breena digs into her purse and pulls out a card with a name and phone number written on it. She hands it to Ziva.

"Will I be a bother to her?" Ziva asks, chewing on her lip at she stares at the card in between her fingers. So this is her reality now; calling other women with cancer and sharing experiences. The thought of that nauseates her. She's not ready for this yet.

"Oh, no. She went to this support group, when she was first diagnosed, and ever since then she's been trying to help, you know. She'll be glad to talk to you."

"Thank you," Ziva says again quietly. She has to do it, doesn't she?

"Ziva-"

The door swings open again, and Tony pauses mid-stride to stare in mild amazement at the scene. "Hi, Breena."

"Hey, Tony." Breena gives him a smile before turning back to Ziva. "Uhm. This is also for you. I made them." She digs into her purse again and pulls out a small bag of cupcakes this time.

"Oh…that is very nice of you. Thank you very much."

"You're welcome. I guess…I'll go now, Ziva…if you ever need me for something, don't be afraid to call. And I hope you get better soon." She pats Ziva's arm awkwardly before making her way out of the room.

Tony immediately reclaims his seat and Ziva's hand.


	5. Chapter 5

**Pairing: Ducky/Ziva friendship**

**Spoilers: Slight McWriter.**

**Ducky's chapter! I like it, so I hope you will too :D and thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! You guys are the bestest :D I wish to give you all the rainbows in the world!**

**-_Soph_**

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><p>Ducky, McGee, and Palmer show up as a group shortly after work hours, three heads peering around the doorway in a rather comical show of solidarity. She beckons them in with a smile. Tony suddenly tightens his grip on her, as if he's afraid the other three might take her away; she shoots him a puzzled look as the others gather around her bed. If they notice the movement, they say nothing.<p>

"How are you, my dear?" Ducky smiles and pats her shoulder. "I'm sorry we could not make it here earlier. Jethro…suggested that we stay at the Navy Yard and hold the fort."

"Yeah." McGee shifts on his feet, looking down at the floor. "I wanted to come with Abby but Gibbs said to stay at work. I got you this though…it's the newest Deep Six book. It's the early edition; hasn't gone into official circulation yet."

He leans forward to hand her the book, and then freezes halfway. "U-uh…uhm…I'm not advertising this, by the way. I just thought you might want something to read…"

"I do appreciate it, McGee. Thank you." She smiles reassuringly and stretches forward to take the book. She can't quite make it; her stitches pull painfully on her flesh. Tony takes it for her and lays it in her open hands; she accepts it, sinking deflatedly into her pillows. Another thing she can't do on her own. How many months more before she can at least pretend to be self-sufficient again?

Tony entwines her fingers with his and gives her a squeeze.

"Mr Palmer…" Ducky begins. "Timothy, Anthony. Could I please have a moment alone with Ziva? I promise you that I will take good care of her."

Tony hesitates while McGee and Palmer move towards the door; she nods and gives his hand an answering squeeze. She doesn't know what Ducky has in mind and she doesn't know if she's up for another round of emotional explosion, but she trusts Ducky. Tony eventually unentangles his fingers from hers and shuffles out of the room.

She watches his retreat, wondering when they started spending so much time together.

Ducky sinks down onto her bed. "Where does it hurt?" he asks quietly, and she knows he's not talking about her stitches.

"Everywhere." It's probably the most truthful answer she can give him. "Everything hurts. I used to be able to…fight several men. At the same time. Now, I cannot even stretch forward to take a book."

"You have not lost your skills, Ziva."

"No. I have only lost the opportunity to use them."

"Do you really think so?"

"I can't work…knowing that I have this hanging over my head. I'll have to schedule my life around chemotherapy and doctor's visits and the hope that I do not relapse. How can I do everything that work will require, knowing I have to constantly pay attention to these things? I will have to keep taking days off, and while I'm having chemo and recovering from my surgery I will not be able to do things like I used to."

"The effects from the surgery and the chemotherapy will wear off eventually."

"Yes. But what if I relapse?"

"Then we shall have to do it again. But Ziva, there is no point in worrying about something that has not occurred."

She purses her lips. "I'm merely preparing myself."

"Preparing oneself…means educating oneself. Knowing the symptoms and the stages, and the remission and relapse rates. As I am sure, you are well aware of them. You are prepared. Preparing oneself does not mean worrying. It is like crossing a road, Ziva. There is always a possibility of being hit. When we are prepared, we look left and right and make sure that there are no cars before crossing. We do not wait because we are afraid of being hit, because then we might never get across."

She nods ruefully. Ducky's right, as Abby was. Have they always been that wise, or had she simply lost perspective? "Ducky…I lost…my will to live."

"How do you mean, my dear?"

"These…few weeks…I've been doing everything because I should, but I don't really want to do them. I don't even know why I took the surgery…I think it was an automatic decision."

"Perhaps you still have the will to live, if you took the surgery."

She shakes her head. "My thoughts were all about dying. Not that I wanted to die, but they kept coming to me."

"Ahhh, well, you've had a difficult time. Preoccupation with death, Ziva, is normal when we're facing something that might potentially be fatal."

"It should not be."

"Perhaps so, and perhaps not. It's simply an evolutionary mechanism. We cannot stay alive by ignoring the threats to our survival. But we _also _cannot stay alive by thinking only about the thing that threatens our survival. Imagine if you are to face down a criminal who's holding a gun by focusing only on him. You will forget how you are supposed to react. You will forget the knife hidden at your waist and the gun strapped to your ankle, and the escape route behind him. Ziva, you remember those things in such situations now because you have been trained to remember them. You have not been trained to face cancer. So it is normal for you to forget. But if you can tell me this now, about your having lost the will to live, then perhaps it means you've not completely forgotten. After all, we cannot find what we don't know we've lost."

"I had some help from Abby with that."

"Well, my dear, we _are _here for you."

She's surprised when her eyes tear up again at that. She's starting to forget why she'd kept this from them; why she'd refused to let Gibbs and Tony tell them. "Thank you, Ducky."

"Always a pleasure, my girl." Ducky gives her a gentle hug before standing up again. "Now, would you like for the boys to come back in?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Pairing: Tiva**

**Spoilers: None**

**Last chapter! And yea, this is more Tiva-ish than angst-ish. But it's sad-ish nonetheless. You have been warned! :D**

**My last chance to give all my lovely readers and reviewers some candy, so HERE: *Gives you all the candy in the world for your support*. Thank you!**

**Enjoy, please review!**

**-_Soph_**

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><p>Ducky, McGee, and Palmer leave after two hours, and the silence in the room is a stark contrast to the noise that had occupied it just moments before. She doesn't mind either way. In the noise she has found companionship, and in the silence…she has Tony. Still by her side, still holding her hand like he might lose his way if he lets go.<p>

She raises her eyebrows at him. "Why don't visiting hours apply to you?"

He shifts in his seat. "Might've uh…used my badge a little. Gibbs might've put in a few words."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

She shakes her head and drops the subject. She can tell that he's still worried, even though she's laughed more today than she has for many past weeks. Telling her friends…has helped. And she knows that the journey is far from over, knows that there will be many more difficult days to come; but maybe they will pass easier with her friends there. _Maybe._

She draws his hand up, resting it high on her stomach as she studies his fingers. "Thank you, Tony," she says, swallowing. If she is to start telling him how grateful she is for his being there, how grateful she is for _him_, she might not be able to stop from telling him that she loves him.

"For what?"

"For…being here. These past few weeks."

"We're partners, right?"

She moves her eyes up to study his face. "Tony…if you are here because of work duties, then I need to know, because I need to know how much I can rely on you for the…chemotherapy."

He tenses suddenly, his eyes widening. "Chemo. I forgot."

She ignores the sinking feeling in her heart; the one that tells her she relies on him anyway, even if she shouldn't. "It's okay. You don't need to be here for the chemo. I understand. Gibbs and Abby-"

"What? No. I want to be here!"

"No. Look, this is above and beyond your job description."

"I want to do it. I…need to do it. Ziva, you have to let me be here."

Something in her jolts at the pleading in his tone, and she nods miserably. So many fights left to win; she can't afford to pick one with Tony. Not right now. Especially not when she doesn't really want to win. "Okay."

"Unless you don't want me." An odd squeak leaves his throat, and her eyes fly up to his face again.

"Of course I want you. But I do not want you to feel obligated to do this as my partner because it will be very ugly. I will lose my hair and will be throwing up all the time…Tony, I expect you to be here, as a friend. But I do not w-want you to be doing this," she holds up their linked hands and drops it hopelessly back onto the bed, "because of a work partnership. It just _isn't _worth it." _I am not worth it._

She ignores the tears that sting her eyes.

"But – but we're more than work partners. This is not about the job. I'm not here because of the job. If I were I'd be showing my badge off to the nurses outside and checking in with you once in a while. Not…you know, just sitting here."

She furrows her brows as she tries to make sense of what he's saying. First he says he's here because they're partners…then he says it's not about the job. _Men_. "So you're here…because of me?"

Another odd squeak leaves his throat. "Yes."

"I don't want to be an unnecessary burden to you, Tony."

"You'll be a worse burden…if I can't see you and know that you're okay."

She breathes out slowly and lowers her head. She knows he didn't mean it that way, but she can't decide which part hurts her more; the part where he thinks she could be more of a burden than she already is, or the part where he thinks she might not be _okay _in the end. And yes, sometimes she wonders if he thinks about her death too.

He lets go of her hand, and she tries hard not to mourn whatever it is that she really needs to mourn. But he surprises her by climbing into the dangerously creaking bed and settling down beside her. Before she can ask him what he's doing, he has her head on his chest and his arms around her.

She lies still, listening to the beating of his heart through the softness of his sweater. They've never done this before. They've had countless hugs by now, but they've never just lain there, cuddling. She resists the urge to press her cheek into him. It's something that she could get too used to.

"What are you doing?" she finally asks, not daring to look up at him because she doesn't know what unwanted answer she'll find in his eyes.

"Practising for chemo."

"You want…to…hold me…for chemo?"

"I want to know that you're okay. Holding you is a good way to check on your general status."

She snorts and presses her face into his sweater. It smells partly of detergent and partly of him. She really likes that smell. "It will lose its appeal when I go bald," she warns him nonetheless.

He stays so quiet that she ignores the sinking feeling she's developing again and starts debating the merits of drawing back. "Not when it's you," he eventually tells her, and his grip tightens protectively as he presses a kiss to her head. Her heart flutters.

She could really get used to this.

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><p><strong>The end! I hope you guys enjoyed reading that :D it was my favourite chapter to write. I can't help it okay; my shipper heart beats strong.<strong>

**A/N: [SCIENCE CONTENT] You don't have to read this if you're just here for the story; if you'd like to know something about ovarian cancer, read on!**

**Ovarian cancer, obviously, starts in the ovaries. It can attack other parts of the body through growing and invading other organs such as the fallopian tubes and the uterus; shedding (breaking off) and growing on other organs; or spreading through the lymphatic system or bloodstream to other organs.**

**There are four stages of ovarian cancer. In stage I, the cancer cells are found in/on one or both ovaries, and possibly in the fluid collected from the abdomen. In stage II, the cancer has spread to the fallopian tubes/uterus/other tissues in the pelvis. In stage III, cancer cells can be found in tissues outside the pelvis, and in regional lymph nodes. In stage IV, the cancer has spread to organs outside the pelvis and the abdomen, such as the liver and the lungs.**

**The American Cancer Society's most recent statistics show that ovarian cancer is the 9th most common cancer among women and the 5th in cancer deaths among women. A woman's lifetime chance of getting ovarian cancer is about 1 in 71 and her lifetime risk of dying from ovarian cancer is about 1 in 95.**

**Symptoms for ovarian cancer include pressure/pain in the abdomen or pelvis, a swollen abdomen, intestinal or bowel problems, and fatigue. These issues may not necessarily be caused by cancer, though.**

**And...yea, I'm done.**

**Sources: The website of the National Cancer Institute; the website of the American Cancer Society**

**-_Soph_**


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